


To Play a Harp

by orphan_account



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family Fluff, Gen, Musical Instruments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 17:43:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5465327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Irissë, amazed by Macalaurë's musical talents, convinces him to teach her to play the harp. Will his efforts be at all successful?</p><p>Written for Memaizaka for LotR_SeSa_2015. Memaizaka, I hope you like it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Play a Harp

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uumuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/gifts).



> I'm using the Quenya version of everyone's name, see below: 
> 
> Irissë: Aredhel  
> Macalaurë: Maglor  
> Ñolofinwë: Fingolfin  
> Fëanáro: Fëanor

F.A. 5

Irissë folded her knees under her as she sat down on the sheepskin rug, relishing how soft it felt. The person whom she had come to compliment kept his eyes closed. Before she could start to speak, he began yet another tune on his harp, this one pensive and melancholy. Irissë chuckled inwardly. Where the Fëanorions were concerned, none showed quite as much dedication to his craft as Macalaurë. 

Listening to his music was a balm, soothing all the hurt she had experienced since leaving Tirion. It erased all of her fears and worries, and replaced them with peace and joy. It was as pleasant as her memories of falling asleep to Amil’s sweet lullabies in a warm bed back home. 

The sons of Fëanáro had invited Ñolofinwë and all of their half-cousins living at Lake Mithrim to a feast —one meant to celebrate the truce between their families. The food had been delicious, and dessert even better. Now, everyone else in the hall was occupied with conversation and wine. No one besides her was paying any attention to Macalaurë’s song. She, however, could not ignore it. 

The music was lovely enough when just being listened to. Yet observing Macalaurë at his craft made his performance exquisite. The beauty of it left Irissë breathless. Seeing this made her want to play the harp more than anything else.

"You play so beautifully!" Irissë exclaimed in wonder when he finished. 

Macalaurë looked up sharply in surprise. Upon seeing his cousin he beamed, a huge smile on his face. She wasn’t very surprised to see him react so. After all, this was the first time they were conversing with each other since the darkening. Even in Valinor they had not spoken much. Their fathers had never been on good terms, and though Irissë occasionally visited her cousins, Macalaurë didn’t speak much. He was a rather quiet soul. 

“Would you teach me to play as you do? I will likely never become a master musician like you, but I desire to at least know how it’s done.” 

“You are wrong. I am sure you have many talents and just do not recognize them. I’ll gladly impart my harp skills unto you,” Macalaurë said, smiling.

* * *

A week later, Irissë and Macalaurë were standing in the latter’s chambers, in front of his harp. He was explaining the basics of its construction. 

“Why do the strings have different colors?” she asked. Most were white, but some were black and others red, both occurring at regular intervals of eight. 

“Each string of the harp corresponds to one of the eight musical notes. You’re familiar with them, am I correct?” 

Irissë nodded. 

“Well, since this instrument has so many strings, harp makers color the Cs red and the Fs black*,” he said.

Macalaurë then motioned for her to come up in front of the harp. Irissë hesitated. After all, he had not yet shown her how to play anything.

“Don’t worry,” he said teasingly as he lead her there by the hand, “nothing will happen. And besides, how do you expect to play the harp if you never touch one?”

 _Something most likely_ will _happen_ , Irissë thought, _he will think me a fool who is inept at producing even the simplest of sounds._

Positioning himself behind her, Macalaurë began explaining about the individual strings, what notes they produced, where to strum them, and how to do so. At first he would reach out and play a note, or several in a sequence, and then ask her to repeat the same motions. It did not sound bad at all when she played, despite what she had feared.  Irissë began to like this method of learning. It suited her well; she was pleased to be playing simple harmonics within an hour of standing at a harp for the first time. 

Once they had spoken of (but not used) the seven pedals, Irissë's last lesson that day was on how to play basic chords. Getting them right was a challenge, but after many attempts and nearly reaching the limit of Macalaurë’s patience (until now she hadn’t known it existed), she managed to play a few competently. 

* * *

 Several lessons later, and with much practicing on her own when Macalaurë was busy, Irissë was able to play a few pieces rather well. She showed off her improved skills, and her tutor admitted he was pleasantly surprised, after which she swatted his arm playfully in a gesture of mock offense.

That day Macalaurë decided it was time to introduce her to some higher-level techniques. Irissë was eager to get started. She realized that what was still beyond her level prevented her from trying her hand at any of the truly beautiful tunes (usually composed by him, of course). 

Taking his place at the front of the harp, he said, “I’ll play some examples of techniques we can start learning today, and you will choose one. Worry not though, you’ll learn all of them eventually.” 

He demonstrated three unconventional ways of using the strings, and she loved all of them. Yet she had to perfect the third one as soon as she could. The sound it produced was simply too beautiful. Irissë told him as much.

“I certainly share your view. Amongst harpists, this is called ‘the whisper*.’ I’m sure you realized it sounds just like someone whispering quickly, except in the beautiful sounds that a harp produces instead of an elven voice.”

She nodded. Of course she understood how the name had been derived. She let Macalaurë demonstrate how a whisper was played. The mechanics of it were quite simple: One played several notes repeatedly, alternating the left and right hands. It was the speed with which it had to be done that was a challenge. Nevertheless, by starting slowly and increasing the tempo bit by bit, Irissë was able to perform a competent whisper within several days. 

* * *

As was ever her way, she wanted to showcase her skills as soon as she could. As luck would have it, the Fëanorions were again hosting a gathering for the House of Finwë during that same lunar cycle. Her father was there, along with all of Irissë’s brothers. Proudly they watched as she debuted her harp skills. 

Though playing from Macalaurë’s sheet music, she felt a surge of boldness at the end, and played a whisper. When the instrument became silent, some of those watching her whistled while the rest clapped. Though Irissë was not one to underestimate herself, she was surprised at the pleasant response she received from the audience. 

Macalaurë also benefited from the event. Several of their family members congratulated him on how effectively he had taught Irissë his skills. He replied that her natural talents played no small part in the process. 

Atar came up to her later that evening, telling her that the sight of his daughter playing such a beautiful instrument after only learning it for such a short period of time had brought tears to his eyes. When he mentioned how proud Amil would have been to see her that evening, she realized she knew exactly what her mother would have said.

_Who knew that Irissë, the fierce huntress of the House of Finwë, could be blessed with such musical skills as well?_


End file.
